How We Fly
by Sakata-Bluemoon
Summary: In an alternate universe humanity is forced to grow wings, but that doesn't mean everyone can fly. Wings are a gift that can be taken in the most peculiar ways, but friendship is everlasting. Even when we make mistakes. AusXUSA, a feel good fic.


**A/N:: This is purely a feel good story, written in the spur of the moment while I was working on something else. Any complaints will be taken but probably ignored. I don't own Hetalia.**

They take us when we're young, something about the body still growing and muscle development, but when does anyone listen to what scientists have to say. No one remembers how it happens, or where, we just know that it hurts... a lot. Apparently they cut open your back, along the spinal column, pull out some of your ribs; stretching them back behind you and grafting on new skin and muscles. It's a new chemical they came up with which lengthens the hair follicles and gives them those feather like characteristics, plus colouring pigments the same as you hair.

Humanity could now fly wherever, whenever, they needed to; we'd grown wings.

Alfred Jones, head boy, leading sports star and all round 'nice' guy. He was what every man wanted to be, and who every girl wanted to date. Some said that the gods had blessed him when they gave him his wings, six metres long in either direction and shimmering blonde in colour. Flight was one of the first things he was able to master, after, of course, picking up a football.

Jack on the other hand, well, he seemed to have drawn the short stick. Seventeen years old with wings to colour of muddy water and an inability to even hover on a good day. He was socially rejected and suffered from isolation issues. So, being the overly confident socialite which everyone fawned over, Alfred stepped forward to try and teach Jack the freedom, and joy, of flight.

"This seriously isn't a good idea mate." Jack commented for the third time that hour, trotting behind Alfred as he dragged the old gymnastics trampoline out into the middle of the school oval. "I'll break something! I'll fall off! We shouldn't even-"

"Shush! If you fall I _promise_ I'll catch you," Alfred replied, interrupting the younger boy before he started hyperventilating, annoyance plastered across his face. "All I want you to do s bounce slowly and flap your wings a bit." Skeptically, but knowing he'd either do this willingly or by force, Jack clambered awkwardly onto the equipment; doubts creeping to the forefront of his mind about _every_ possible outcome.

"Promise you'll catch me?" He asked again, voice small as he stood in the centre of the trampoline mat; the black fabric barely dipping under his weight.

"Promise." Alfred replied as seriously as he could, confident grin in place as he double finger saluted his forced friend. With that settled Jack pushed down on the mat and let physics do the rest. Air rushed around him as he was launched into the space above, wings stretching out to flap tentatively at the air currents. Each jump brought new confidence, new strength, every movement starting to flow together and reach higher. It was a graceful dance that enraptured Alfred and left him breathless as dirt brown wings turned auburn in the light of the sun, and feathers ruffled softly within the small breeze caressing the two boys. Until, everything came crashing down.

He'd been doing so well, but all good things must come to an end; so here he lay, in a hospital gown of pale teal, eyes closed after another mammoth operation. One wing wrapped in blood stained bandages, and the colour once again a soft brown, unnoticeable and unloved.

Alfred blamed himself, constantly, he was the hero and he couldn't even protect one person; Jack blamed the trampoline, when he wasn't completely out of it thanks to the pain killers and morphine. And the trampoline was returned to its corner of the storage shed to gather dust once more, the only evidence of the ordeal a few straggly brown feathers caught under a spring.

Alfred hadn't spoken or left his room in three months, stress and self loathing where taking its toll on the young sports star. Jack was too out of it to notice that the only person he'd ever considered a friend hadn't seen him. It was only when he returned to school after three months of hospitalisation to be met with glares of hatred did he pick up something was out of place.

That afternoon with trembling fingers and a movie about songbirds, Jack entered the lions den and made contact with Alfred.

"I brought you this, thought that maybe we could watch it sometime. If you aren't too busy." Jack eyed the half eaten sandwiches on the floor playing sandcastles with the unidentifiable gym socks covered in three inches of flaking mould. "Your mum said you usually watch sports documentaries, but this one has less foul play in it."

The joke fell flat, letting the awkward silence spread once more through out the room.

"Do you hate me?" Alfred turned huge sorrowful blue eyes on his once friend, the blanket finally falling away from his bulking form. Once stunning gold wings looked lifeless behind his back, turning the whole image of the past super star into that of someone suffering depression.

"Why would I?" Jack asked right back, startled by what his friend had said, he could never hate Alfred it just wasn't in his nature.

"I broke my promise, just like I broke your wing," Alfred muttered, fingers gently touching the starch white coverings of the injury. "They said... they said you'd never be able to fly again. Not without causing some serious injury." He tried to swallow back the tears, a lump choking him as he thought back to how happy Jack had seemed just jumping into the air; the memory tore through his heart like a blunt knife, making a choked sob fall from chapped lips.

"Alfred look at me! I don't blame you," Jack replied, soft fingers stroking along the ridge of the massive blonde wing closest to him; the other giving a soft mewl at the attention. "I might not be able to fly with my wings, but every time you take my hand and pull me along to try out another hair brained scheme... I feel like I'm flying..."


End file.
